Nerve Deep
by fakeid
Summary: Jim going a little crazy and McCoy has a solution.


Notes:

*

Jim and Bones start like this:

It's late. Sort of.

They are drunk. Not really.

Jim really wishes Bones would touch him more.

Maybe.

Jim is untouchable. Alien hands reach out and hold out babies so that he can bless them. He's a captain of the USS Enterprise, the fucking flagship of the fleet. He's in history and he's making history.

So yeah, people don't touch him in a casual way.

It had been six months since their last shore leave. They had been promised one in a month or two, but with the recent outburst of revolts on a string of mining planets, Jim doesn't have much faith.

Bones was checking him over after a minor incident with an overexcited security officer, Chekov's latest math equation and his hand. Bones was examining his hand gently running over his fingers with his own fingers. The room was slightly warmer, but not the sort of warm that that made your skin feel like it was sliding off your bone. Just warm.

"Explain to me again how a stylus managed to embed itself in your palm?"

"Matthews was practicing fencing with Sulu and accidently let the sword fly out of his hand hitting Chekov who then fell on me. And that's the truth."

Bones snorted. "Of course, you would never lie to me." He said as he dropped Jim's hand. They are standing too close and Bones' hand grazes his as he walks past.

That night he dreamt of Bones's hands running lightly down his back and then back up slowly working out the knots in his back. Jim wakes up half hard his hips pressing down into the mattress.

The next day he sends his report to Starfleet detailing an immediate need for Shore leave managing to exaggerate each incident of the tired and weary crew until it was all but implied they would mutiny if forced to go into battle without a proper repair of the ship and rest. The rebellion could easily be handled by another crew.

It was granted two days later. Jim picks up three girls, two humanoid girls, a very (very) ttractive male and bottle of whiskey for good measure.

With so many hands on him over a two day period it's a miracle he leaves with his own.

Three days after, Bones's hands appear in his dream again. He hides how disturbed he is by it with easy jokes and thumps on the back. He tries to go in for his checkups when he knows Bones is not on duty, but Chapel doesn't like to play his games and made it very clear that Appointments Were Made For A Reason.

So the hands stayed. And in his dreams they strayed lower and sideways. Sometimes he would have (awkwardly) nonsexual dreams about Bones reaching out to steady him, Bones's fingertips pressing firmly into his skin. Sometimes (and most definitely only in his dreams) he wished they would push a little harder and leave something to remember them by. The sexual dreams… well, he hadn't gotten hard about kissing someone since he was fourteen.

It worsened over time. Shore leave did little to stop them and soon… no one was touching him anymore. They were touching their Captain, their savior, their captor, their nameless fuck, or even the last person they would ever touch. Soon even the Captain stopped touching Jim and that's when his skin starts buzzing.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Bones asked, one evening.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Jim shrugged out of his dress shirt and tossed it on the floor. He was in the process of pulling off his undershirt when Bones spoke again.

"Do I need to recommend a psych evaluation?"

"No."

Bones raised an eyebrow and leaned back into his chair. "Next time Starfleet starts bitching about funding you should have Security send this tape to them. They can sell it and make big bucks. Starfleet Undershirt defeats Dashing Young Captain of the Enterprise."

"Shut up!" Jim was hopelessly entangled in his shirt now. He heard the familiar beep of the tricorder as it finished taking readings.

"Well, you haven't gained weight… which still leaves us with the mystery of why your clothes don't fit."

"Just pull my fucking shirt off and stop speculating."

There was a tug and then a yank and shirt flew off sending Jim reeling onto the bed. Bones hovered over him with another device.

"Piss off anyone in laundry recently?"

Jim pushed himself so that he was sprawled across the bed. "Not exactly."

Bones snorted. "Fuck Jim, just tell me. I can tell it's something medical and you don't want to  
>tell me."<p>

"Fine," Jim started, uncaring that he sounded like a three year old. "My skin… it's just itching and feeling weird lately. Not allergy weird, but just odd. I asked laundry to stop using the detergent, but unfortunately whatever they put in the detergent prevents shirts from shrinking and wrinkling. Hence, this fucking problem."

Bones nods. "Hold still." Bones ran his fingers gently prodding along his sternum. Jim inhaled sharply at the sensation.

Bones watched his face closely all while moving his fingers lower until they were at his belly  
>button before abruptly pulling away.<p>

"Minor case of cutaneous deprivation."

"What? I'm not taking any more vitamins, Bones! You already have me on three!"

"You idiot! You have to repair bone and muscle so often you should be lucky I only shove three down your throat every day! It means that you're bit touch deprived and stressed."

"You got that from running your fingers down my chest?"

Bones sighed. "No, I got that from being your friend and living with you. You like to touch things and feel them. Lately you don't even do that weird stroking thing on the arms of your chair anymore. Being Captain puts a large amount of responsibility on your head. Don't look at me like that, as CMO I get to read all the fucked up reports of what happens when the Captain breaks. I'm not going to let this break you."

Jim pulls himself up. "It's not that easy."

"What do you mean? At the Academy you could pick up a girl a night if you wanted to. You're someone that needs people around them."

"No! It's just that it doesn't work anymore!" Bones looked horrified.

"And you didn't say anything? Are you fucking crazy, impotence can be a sign—"

"Not like that! I mean that the itching feeling… it doesn't go away after a night with some nameless or named being in a motel. Trust me. I've tried."

Bones looked resigned. "I guess you need a more long term treatment plan. Have you thought about—."

"Hugging Spock?"

Bones snorted. "I think that would cause quite the disturbance on the bridge. I can only imagine what sort of gossip that would lead to."

"Spock would consider it logical."

"I think Chapel trained in the neonatal unit for a bit. She probably knows more how to deal with this sort of thing."

Jim hummed letting himself fall back in the bed. "No…"

The bed shifted as Bones sat on the edge. "Do you doubt the integrity of my medical staff?"

"No—I just… it'll be fine. I'm fine."

"Scoot over and lay on your stomach," Bones said. Jim obeyed. Bones grabbed the muscle by his  
>neck.<p>

"Ow!"

"I'm working on it!" Bones began kneading the muscle. It was rather painful at first, but soon gave way to boneless tension. Finally when Jim didn't think any part of his body would move, the weight shifted as Bones stood up.

"Bones."

"Yeah."

Jim was silent for a long moment. "You give shitty massages."

"Shut it. It was fine. Come in tomorrow before your shift and I'll work out the remaining kinks."

Whatever state of bloodless Zen Jim's dick had been in before ended with that statement. Jim waited a solid three minutes after Bones left before reaching down.

He considers it an astonishing act of self-control.


End file.
